


Reflected Lies

by Myrtilla



Series: While They were Innocent [2]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Minor Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Realization, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrtilla/pseuds/Myrtilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stability of a dream cannot last without the belief of its participants. Events and actions that make no sense flow seamlessly until the dreamer begins to question them.</p>
<p>Hal struggles to accept the reality of being given a second chance at life. Can the dreamworld remain or will it prove to be no more than an illusion created by Hal, Tom and Alex's dream design...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

The domino key, chipped with age lay on the lounge room coffee table. The index and thumb of Hal’s left hand twitched involuntary rather than pick up the former talisman. It no longer provided any comfort.   

The gentle pad of footsteps on the stairs accompanied by a gentle scent of strawberry body butter announced Alex was awake. He listened as she bustled around the kitchen, boiling the kettle and unearthing a bag of waffles with delight.

The responsibility for maintaining her small house and caring for her three younger brothers had been passed to her at seventeen.  Despite proclaiming to hate chores like cooking and not understanding children, Alex was one of the most maternal women he had ever met if perhaps only grudgingly.

 _Another morning in paradise,_ Hal thought, the sarcasm still present within his head.

He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, the same one he’d worn since the confrontation with Rook and the much older, crueler creature residing inside the host body. The markings drawn on the pale flesh of his arm recorded the number of days they had lived in the house as humans; twenty-nine small black strokes. Hal drew the thirtieth before hurriedly pulling down his sleeve.

“Morning,” Alex yawned placing two mugs on the table.

“It’s ok,” she said as Hal made to make room for her on the couch. Instead, she perched on the end cushion and laid his legs across her lap.

“Are you sure you want to go and see your family today?” he asked tentatively, watching the smear of cream on her upper lip as she drank her tea.  

“Yes and no. But it’s been weeks, I mean look at the progress Tom’s made.”

Within a day of their miraculous discovery Tom had left to visit Allison, slipping back into a steady relationship despite having lost the key factor they’d once had in common: the curse. Tom seemed convinced they would be married as soon as she finished her law degree.

“I have to tell them something,” Alex’s voice pulled him back to the present. “I just don’t know what or how they’ll react...”

“Alex, don’t be ridiculous,” Hal swung his legs around to the front of the couch to wrap an arm around her.

Alex’s body tensed for a second before she leaned back against him swallowing a dry sob.

“Their beautiful sister and daughter has been restored to them and I assure you they will be overjoyed.”

She smiled without replying but moved her hand to cover his on her shoulder and shuffled closer, drawing up her knees and resting her head against his collarbone.     

Alex’s smile was one of her most attractive features, reflecting a glimpse of the mischievous kid almost crushed by her hijacked adolescence.

Her hair still damp from the shower had begun to grow out of the short cut, just long enough to frame her face.

 “Would you like me to come with you?”   

“Are you sure? It’s over nine hours drive.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Thanks. I’m trying not to think too hard or I’ll get even more nervous. I mean there’s no way to tell your dad ‘surprise, I’m not dead’ is there.” 

He kissed her brow, the damp hair bringing to soak through his shirt forming a cold patch on his skin but Hal was amused to realise that he didn’t care.

“Oh the waffles should be done,” she stood up and hurried back to the kitchen.

In a supposed month Alex still hadn’t bought any new clothes of her own the green singlet and khaki she was wearing were borrowed from Tom. Tom was lean enough for Alex to wear his clothes but the shorts rode just low enough about her slender hips to reveal the lace trim of her underwear, just as the loose shirt was in slight danger of slipping down her shoulders.

He took a sip from the other mug and grimaced. The tea, black with a splash of cold water was perfect. What upset him was how Alex had known that without him telling her.

 

Alex’s mood remained quite reasonable, a mix of tense silence and meaningless chatter.

“Wow, that didn't feel like as long as it did on the way to Barry,” Alex mused as Hal pulled the car up outside her quaint little house.

_That’s because it wasn't. Perhaps we could live decades and when looking back feel as if it were only a few days..._

“Would you just wait here? It might be easier...”

“Of course Alex, good luck.”

Hal waited until she had rung the doorbell before slipping out of the car and behind the garden hedge to listen.

A child between eight and ten years opened the door.

“Alex?”

“Hi Decky,” Alex choked out. She dropped to her knees and held out her arms.

The child ran into them and sobbed, clinging on with both hands and his ankles wrapped around her waist.

“Dad!” he squealed. “Dad!”

“What is it? You alright?”

A tall man half hidden behind a mass of beard appeared in the doorframe, glancing around for trouble before his gaze fell on Alex. Alex’s father looked at her with disbelief, turning quickly into anger.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hello Dad.”

“Don’t call me that. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“But Dad, it’s me,” Alex stood up lifting her youngest brother with up with her.

“Get your hands of my son,” he said gruffly and snatched the boy from her arms.

Decky glanced from one to the other from behind his father, the man now trying to shield him from her.

“Dad I was in an accident, it was complicated but I can prove its me. I tapped your lighter to the inside of the washing machine cause I hate you smoking. There were two posters of Robert Downey Jr in my room, one above my bed and on the door of my closet. The last argument you and I had was about Ryan’s tattoo. But how the hell could that idiot have spelt ‘Arsenal’ with a ‘k’-”

“Just stop! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Playing a heartless prank like this on a grieving family. Get off my property before I call the police!”

“Dad don’t! Decky-”

“Don’t talk to her,” he shouted over her.

The door slammed in her face. Alex crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her face. The noise was a choked wail, more like an injured animal than a human being.

“Alex?”

She sniffed and stopped wailing but made no move to stand.

“We need to go now,” Hal insisted.

She looked up and slowly shook her head.  With a sigh, Hal gently took hold of Alex’s quivering arms, placing them about his shoulders and lifting her in his arms.

“I want to go home.”  The words were mumbled and ambiguous.

He didn’t ask whether she meant the home which rejected her or the house she’d been more or less stranded in since her death.

 

“Are you alright Alex?” Tom asked anxiously. He glanced at Hal kneeling on the floor as he set up his dominos on the coffee table.

“I’ve been better.”

“Oh...Say hello to Allison,” he sat on the couch beside her and placed his new laptop on her lap.

“Hi Alex,” Allison’s quirky face smiled and waved up at her from the Skype window.

“Hi. Tom, you need to maximise the window so the picture’s bigger. See?”

“Tom I think we should go upstairs now.” Allison noticed the strain in her voice where Tom did not.

“Ok. Night Alex, night Hal.”

“Goodnight Tom. Allison.”

“They’re cute together,” Alex said after Tom had left.

“Yes they are,” Hal placed the last domino, the original key with only two dots.

“I think I need to go to bed. Forget this stupid day-shit!”

As she moved to stand up Alex hit her knee on the glass corner of the table, rattling the keys.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah fine. I’m sorry, I almost knocked them down.”

“Alex it’s just a game, don’t apologize.”

_It is not a game; it is a test_

“May I?”

“By all means.”

Alex gave the first key a gentle flick, oblivious to Hal watching closely. The first key collided with the second only trembled, tipping forward slightly like a person with a strong wind at their back before regaining balance. The first key tumbled backwards onto the floor.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m going mad,” Alex laughed, the note of hysteria giving way to renewed sobs.

Hal knew there was no way to comfort her, no kind words that would actually make the pain go away. Even proving he truly understood by sharing stories of his own lost family would not help. His six mothers all dead before their deserved time and half without being able to say goodbye, would only serve to make her grief seem less significant. Grief was not a competition.

“If you decide you want to talk, I will listen. If you would rather forget, I will not talk about and make sure Tom doesn't. Whatever you decide.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback 1918

 

Hal removed the small mirror from his bedroom sink before picking up his toothbrush. After so many years, he was not yet accustomed to his reflection, barely able to recognise the defining features of his own face. Strange too that though he had not aged a day in five centuries he now had the opportunity of old age.

Even the luxury of mint-flavoured toothpaste showed how times had changed from his childhood when the most any could hope for was clean water.

He had spent years longing for this mundane mortality without thoughts of blood for even in the times he stayed clean of it, the majority of his thoughts had been focused on preventing himself from falling back into killing. 

He had only, without question been in love once, the girl he may once have been naive enough to call his soul mate. Over a century later, he had found what could have grown to more in time but circumstances and his own cowardice snatched her away. The untold loneliness of immortality.

Then there was Alex...

Hal hung his shirt and jeans over the bedframe and got into bed. He could not recall the last time he had slept, supposedly the night before yet had no actual memory. Besides sleep cannot be counted within a dream; the most he could hope for was a more subdued state of unconsciousness and a slight indication of the amount of time passed.

...........................

 

She was nothing like Sylvie, the dainty little creature who had helped him refrain from blood for almost a decade, dead now over a century. With her blond curls, pale silk skin and cherubic features the girl resembled an angel rather than a human. Not the divine beings of scriptures but those depicted by Joshua Reynolds and Rembrandt.

 Unlike most vampires, Hal had no doubt of the existence of all the otherworld forces preached by the church. However, he knew with equal clarity that only one maintained an interest in humanity and others.

The werewolf’s gentle breathing implied she was still asleep although Hal expected that if she felt him move from the bed she would retrieve her wooden stake as quickly as he his knife, both weapons abandoned on the floor the previous night.

The tangle of dark curls about Catherine’s head reminded him of another woman he had met only once, a long time ago, of the same name. While six women had raised him the ghost of a seventh, his true mother, had been present silently through most of his life. She had lingered long enough for him to see her, in time for her to watch terror stricken as he tore the throat of the vampire who had saved his life.

Hal studied the sleeping woman. The gentle rise and fall of her undersized breasts as she breathed the outline of her wiry limbs under the covers. The hunter instincts stirred under his gaze and she opened her eyes.

“Lady Catherine.”

“Lord Hal,” she replied, throwing back the covers and walking to the ensuite naked.  The modesty and manner of a convent girl had not been in her nature even years before she fled the abbey; the werewolf scratches on her back inflicted by the reverend mother. The elderly woman had not counted on one of her girls making moonlight rendezvous in the woods with local boys.

The unruly third daughter of a minor noble, considered a lost cause by her parents. Built like a greyhound, she had lured stable grooms and sons of house staff into trysts in stairways and closets with her daring, intriguing attitude rather than physical beauty. 

Hal often wondered about her past; how such a girl had risen to a high-ranking officer among the werewolves. His own misdeeds were now a matter of public fact for people who were interested. The centuries of sadistic murder had earned fear and respect of vampires across Europe even among the other Old Ones. Mr Snow was the only exception in regard to the former, but not the latter.

Hal followed her, pausing to lean against the doorframe.

Catherine splashed cold water on her face and adjusted her hair before the mirror.

She heard Hal’s quiet footsteps before she felt his breath and hands on her body although the mirror insisted she was alone.

It was by no coincidence that a vampire could not be seen on any reflective surface, captured image or film. The absence of a reflection served as a constant reminder of the decision each vampire made at the point of death, to live at the potential cost of countless other’s lives. 

“If you were to bite me now,” she whispered, “We’d die together.”

“How humiliating that would be,” he replied, lips slowly moving over her throat and collarbone. “We would be painted like a sentimental mockery of Romeo and Juliet.”

Catherine arched her eyebrows and struggled to face him.

“Is this your way of saying that you love me, Lord Harry?”

“Catherine...”  There  was a hint of a sneer in his otherwise soft tone.

She gasped as the vampire pressed himself against her back and arse, pinning her against the sink. Catherine grunted with frustration as the pressure on her back increased and she was forced to stoop lower. Even after eight years of transformations, he was still stronger than her.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to kill you I expect you would feel similarly about my death.”

“Of course. You’re a monster.”

“I agree. Yet you came to my house in the middle of the night with a cross and stake while I feign sleep with a knife under my pillow and here we are. Oh and the spies you placed in my kitchens were informed to tell you the outdated information; a cross is only two adjoined sticks to an Old One.  But more importantly, why do you think we are both still alive?”

“I don’t know.” 

The lie came easy as it was one she told herself every day. With every fibre in her being, she wished for a world free from the curse that was Hal York. Even if she knew, it would be a world she would not want to live in.

She tensed as his hand moved to her thighs, spreading her legs.

“Shh, don’t worry. Aren’t I always gentle with you, Lady Catherine?”

_Yes but not for my benefit. If I bleed, your precious cock will be singed._

Her unconventional feelings for the vampire had clouded her judgment more than once; she knew Hal to be a gentle and experienced lover. However, on the occasions when he attempted to take the control out of her hands she denied him the only thing she could: a reaction.

Catherine dug her fingernails into her palms, still tapped against her body, and bit her lip to prevent herself from making a sound of pain or pleasure.

“I was in love once,” he murmured huskily. “We were married almost ten years. At the end I tore open her chest with my nails and teeth, then I drank her dry from her left breast.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised that is the closest a vampire can come to caring for anyone else,” Catherine bit back, but the breathlessness in her voice betrayed her as the gentle thrusts continued.

As he finally released her, she struggled to remain steady on her feet. Standing upright, again her head and eyes were at equal height to his. A fact she was sure he resented.

“The maid will be up in half an hour to change the bedclothes,” Hal remarked. “I suggest the west staircase, there’s only the one guard.”

“Why do you bother to post guards? We both know you are not afraid of me and I’ll have to kill any that are posted.”

“Customs and reputations must be maintained my dear. What would your werewolves think if they heard their prize bitch had lost her nerve on yet another failed solo assassination mission?”

“Don’t pretend to be a gentleman, Henry. It doesn’t become you.”

“Just as you would never have made a lady. But we do what we must to survive.”

“Yes me do,” she agreed, biting the tip of her tongue hard enough to encourage a bead of blood as she did so.

Hal did not resist as she placed her hands either side of his face, drawing in for a final kiss.

He grunted at the burning pain on the inner side of his cheek as the blood touched him.

Catherine chuckled as she replaced her clothing. The taste was not enough to kill him but leave the small patch of skin painful and sensitive long enough to remind him to abide by her rules.

 

...........................

“Hal? Are you awake?”

Alex hovered in the doorway, Goosebumps beginning to form on her bare legs.  He was slumped against the headboard, blankets pooled about the waist but his eyes closed.  She couldn’t help glancing up and down his body, normally hidden under long sleeved button ups. The broad shoulders, toned torso and biceps, a result of the hours daily dedicated to disciplined exercise, were no less impressive than she’d first imagined.

“Yes, just...reminiscing,” he blinked and raised a hand to shield the light from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“About two am. I’m sorry...I just don’t want to be alone right now...”

“It’s alright, come in.”

Alex closed the door and crawled into bed beside him. Hal was barely an inch taller than she was so she shifted her body down slightly in order to mould perfectly against his.   Hal took the hint and adjusted his arms around her, her head again fitted into the comfortably into the grove of his shoulder.

“I forgot how much I missed this,” she breathed.

“Missed what?”

“Just being held I guess, probably more than I missed sex. What about you?” 

“Well...I haven’t actually been with a woman in over fifty years.”

“That’s rough,” she tried to cover a giggle.

“Alex, if you are looking for a competition I have successfully seduced several thousand women but as you have experienced firsthand, sexual arousal isn’t helpful for vampires trying to refrain from killing.”

“So even medieval girls like the bad boy?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Alex smiled.

“I’m not even sure I believe in love and ‘one person for everyone’ anymore. My parents thought they loved each other. Seventeen years later my mum abandons her husband and kids and we don’t hear from her again. I’d almost rather she’d met someone else just so there was a reason why...”

“I don’t believe that. I met the one person I loved more than I can put in words. Born in different countries and centuries but we still found each other. But that’s a question of believing in fate not love.”

“What happened to her?”

“I killed her. And the only other who came close to replacing her, I may as well have murdered.”

“You didn’t kill me. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“What?” Hal raised his eyebrows in confusion. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“I told you the ritual required a ghost, a werewolf and a vampire but there was more; they had to be equals in all ways but gender or there wouldn’t be balance. I used blood from one of my bodyguards.” Hal paused as his voice began to crack. “Both the women I cared about most died in my arms.”

“Hal. This is our chance to start everything over, including...” she raised her head to lay a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Us. Just think it over.”

_Would it have made a difference with my blood? Would I be experiencing this present ninety-two years sooner with Catherine? Or perhaps just straight to the next world together..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I enjoy writing Hal's almost multiple personalities I'm not sure it's coming out clearly. At this point Hal isn't just fighting his personalities but also feeling conflicted as he becomes more certain that it isn't real anymore. 
> 
> All feedback appreciated :)

It was not by result of chance or even centuries of evolution that a transformed werewolf will ignore a room of humans in order to tear apart the single vampire. 

It had been decades since Hal was last in London. The underground network of trains reminded him of a beehive, the noise of the bustling crowd no more audible than buzzing. Hal leant back against the column to watch passengers step onto the platform. After centuries of practice he had learned that one of the finest ways to hunt was in a crowd.                                                                                                                                           

Under the mixed odours of the human crowd, wisps of second-hand perfume and cigarette smoke was a more intriguing scent. The man was clad in heavily darned workman’s clothes and carried only a small suitcase. The dark shade of his skin marked him as a minority in the bustling crowd, even though the narrow-minded humans could not detect the true abnormality.

The scent of a werewolf is like musty earth with an underlying sweetness, like mushrooms baked with honey. The metallic tang of vampiric blood was more subtle, undetectable to a wolf until after several years under the curse’s influence.  

The racial hatred between the two was wired into their biology by design of evil outliving any of the remaining vampires. Some forgotten legends claimed King Lycaon had hunted and devoured the elder of the two vampire founders; others argued that the brothers kidnapped a dozen of the king’s sons and watched them tear one another apart under the full moon. Many of the few vampires with access to the documents recording their history had no interest in origins, the blend of myth and lost truth. The simple entertainment of the dog fights was enough.

The young werewolf walked slowly, most likely a country man baffled by the amount of strangers  pressing in on all sides. Hal watched him consult a piece of paper before returning it to his pocket.  He wouldn’t notice one more.

There are many ways to pick a pocket. The simplest time was as a child where many men carried coin purses on their belts, tied with a flimsy length of string even in the busy street. The most simple rule however, Hal had learnt from experience, was that a man if feels a hand on his shoulder he will look at up to the face and not feel a second hand touch his hip. 

Hal nodded to Fergus standing further down the platform. The younger vampire immediately began making his way down the platform towards the werewolf, people respectfully making way for him at the sight of his blue uniform. Fergus’s enrolment in Scotland Yard had proven useful in previous years including the recruitment of the young lawyer Cutler.

Hal chewed his bottom lip as he considered Cutler. Less than five years a vampire but still without a real killer instinct. Fortunately his biggest weakness was also his greatest strength; he believed himself to be destined for greatness, a history maker. Fergus was much simpler than that. The loyal brute. 

Fergus timed the shoulder collision well. The shorter man struggling to regain his balance failed to notice the hand slipping into his jacket pocket.

Fergus completed his circuit, pressing the stolen piece of paper into Hal’s hand as he passed him. Hal scanned the letter, taking note of the name at the top and dropped it into the nearest bin.

He approached the werewolf who was now feeling down his pockets, no doubt in search of the lost letter.

“You must be Leo,” Hal said shaking seizing the man’s hand in a hearty handshake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sorry sir, you may have me mistaken for someone else-”

“Where are my manners? My name is Henry Yorke, I’m representing,” he leaned in to whisper, “the supernatural welcoming committee.”

The werewolf’s eyes widened and Hal struggled not to smirk. He considered the chosen cover name almost obviously false yet werewolves in their first year were incredibly gullible in their desire not to be alone.

“Are you like me?” Leo began.

“Not quite,” Hal tipped his hat to shield his face so only Leo would see his eyes turn black.

“It’s a lonely life, isn’t it?” Leo said, a sad smile twisting his mouth. 

“Secrets the humans are not ready to accept,” Hal nodded, draping an arm around the other’s shoulder, steering him towards the exit.

If the other was uncomfortable at the contact he didn’t comment and allowed Hal to lead him out of the station into the street. Hal knew without looking that Fergus and the others would be following.  

“Have you found a flat yet, Leo?”

“No-”

“That’s very careless my friend. The next full moon is in three days’ time and you must have a safe place to transform. The committee has facilities equipped for transformations I’d recommend at least until you have the chance to find a permanent  residence.”

“Thank you mister Yorke.”

“Please, Hal.”

With his free hand Hal slipped a small bottle from his coat, passing it behind his back to the other hand.  In a practiced motion he poured a small amount onto his coat sleeve and smothered Leo’s mouth and nose. The stunned werewolf struggled briefly as the chloroform took effect. As he slumped against him the two cronies ,Hal could not be bothered remembering their names, rushed to help. They supported the unconscious third between them like a drunken friend.

“Now we just need a human.”

.............................

The indent in the mattress was still warm. Alex couldn’t have been gone long. Hal rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grimaced. His hands were shaking again. Hal grabbed a pen off the bedside table and attempted to draw another line alongside the others.

“Dam it,” he hissed as the utensil slipped through his fingers. The tremors has not been so bad since the day of Natasha’s   death. The poor girl played like a minor chess piece to create the conflict which would enable Hatch’s rise.  Even as she bleed to death Natasha had refused life as a vampire; wisdom Hal wished he’d had access to five centuries ago.

_It is not 1918, it is not 1950. That was another man, long ago..._ The reassuring words were uttered within his head and echoed his voice but were still unfamiliar.

 

The salty air stung his sweaty face but was still a welcome distraction. Two hours run on the beach could not completely remove the memory of his dreams. The dreams that were of course his memories.  It had been Leo who identified his existing compulsive behaviour and used it to an advantage.

Needing again to force unwelcome thoughts and desires from his mind was almost like the hand of an old friend. It was real and that was reassuring.

“I’m beat,” Tom panted, stooping to plant his hands on his knees.

“I’ve missed this,” Hal said softly.

“What do you mean? We’ve been working out together for months.”

“Of, I’m sorry _,”  I never thought I’d have friends again, after Leo. But how did I forget that...?_

“How’d it go with Alex’s family?”

“It looks as if she’s staying here permanently.” Hal rolled the tension from his shoulders before beginning push-ups.  Tom ran a hand through his cropped hair, the skin of his scalp smooth without the clawed scars.

“You don’t sound happy.”

Hal paused, the attentively toned muscles in his back quivering slightly.

“It would be selfish to be wholly pleased. You and I both know what it is like to lose parents and now Alex has twice.” _His and Tom’s families had been taken but Alex’s had rejected her._

Tom nodded slowly reflecting on McNair, the father who raised him rather than the nameless parents he never met.  

“Come on, we gotta finish interviews at the hotel today.”

“Sorry?” Hal asked.

“Job interviews for the dining room; the hotel’s reopening next week. Remember?”

“Oh, of course.”

After the ‘mass suicide’ it had been difficult to hire more staff. The local myth that the Barry Grand Hotel was haunted with a single suicide per year hadn’t served as much of a deterrent; but close to one hundred guests and the entire staff besides Tom and himself had given the hotel an unappealing presence.  The majority of the new staff were prepared to start although no guests had the reserved rooms as yet. Hal and Tom, the only surviving employees, had been restabilised as manager and assistant-manager.

“Tom, may I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you remember any specific events this past month? No, what did you do yesterday?”

“Uh,” Tom ran his fingers through his hair again. “Not really. Went for a run, talked to Allison...Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hal stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, using it to towel his sweating arms and torso. “You go in, I won’t be long.”

The lines on his arm had become smudged by the sweat but Hal paid no heed to them as he resumed his push-ups. He thought he saw the curtain leading out to the patio sway, as if someone had hastily drawn back behind it.

Hal considered the fragments of information. Three people had been living in the rental home, presumably eating and using electricity. However it seemed neither he or Tom had worked in that time. Where were the bills for rent and everyday expensive like groceries? Even basic fundamentals of this paradise did not meet with logic.

Suddenly exhausted he lowered himself onto his stomach, regardless of the sand sticking to his firm nipples and the grooves of his ribs.

In fairy tales, monsters are often slain by heroes but in life the monsters resemble people and more often than not remain unchecked. Nevertheless, in no story should a monster deserve or receive a happy ending.


	4. Chapter 4

A lingering ghost is among the pitiful of beings. Although better able to maintain some sense of humanity, the uncertain future and loneliness of invisibility can be enough to rob them of their sanity.

Over ninety percent of all reports of supernatural activity acknowledged by ignorant humans are no more than hoaxes and coincidences, fuelled by superstitions and the familiar clichés of horror films. The remaining ten percent consists of small abnormalities blamed on further conscience and the rare occurrence that cannot be explained away by even the most persistent cynics. Because of the unsure data there is no clear statistic of lingering ghosts but estimated at no more than several thousand globally. Often a ghost will linger in their familiar surroundings and attempt to alter the lives of their still living loved ones, sometimes even after their passing over. It is rare but not undocumented for ghosts of significant abilities to communicate from beyond the Door through possession of weak minds or projecting evidence and unconventional events to those strong-minded enough to identify the true cause.

……………

Alex fumbled with the door to the spare room one handed, her arms loaded with shopping bags. After more or less running a household for five years she was more than used to the concept of budgeting, only indulging on clothes on rare occasions. Alex removed the tags, folded her new clothes- jeans, tank tops and underwear, and tucked them in to her small cupboard. She’d never felt the need to wash new clothes before wear, a small timesaver of her mother’s who had always hated doing the laundry for a family of six .The dress and leather jacket she had worn the night she died hung somehow forlornly now.

Alex sighed. It had been close to a year now since she had felt the rare desire to make herself pretty. While she had never felt insecure about her body the young woman did not date often, she had always been more comfortable with limited intimacy; flings and the hurried rustle of zippers being undone in toilet cubicles. Relationships were something she had always assumed would come more naturally when she was older. Twenty-two had been far too young to die.

A loud grunt from across the hall caused her hurriedly close the cupboard and return to the hall.           The door to Annie’s bedroom stood ajar and she curiously poked her head through the frame. After the explosion at the docks both the nursery and Annie’s room had been closed off, left undisturbed. Alex had shaken her head when offered the room, choosing instead to drag the two twin beds in the spare room together and sleep there.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

Tom looked up from a pile of wooden planks, rummaging in a toolbox with one hand.

“Just getting everything ready for when Allison comes to visit. Put a bed together, and I can crave the headboard myself. Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Sure, very romantic. But, why won’t she be sleeping in your room?”

“Alex! She’s a lady.”

“Alright, sorry. Is Hal home?”

“He’s in the attic. Oh, I better take that last box up.” Tom scrambled to his feet.

“You’re busy, I can take it-”

“Nah it’s ok.”

“I’ve got it, I don’t mind,” Alex lunged for the box and made for the stairs. She rolled her eyes as she climbed the short staircase to the attic. Tom’s obvious attempts at chivalry often came off more like accidental patronising but she was learning to deal with it.

Hal was seated in the middle of the floor, a stack of papers and what looked like photos spread around him. Alex ran a hand along the rail of Eve’s empty crib, dusting away a cobweb from the pillow to the frame.

“What are you looking at?” she asked when he didn’t acknowledge her, putting the box down.

“All of Annie’s possessions, everything that was left fitted into three cardboard boxes,” he murmured. The material of his shirt pulled taught over broad shoulder blades as he leant forward to pick up another photo. Alex settled on the floor next to him and boldly rested her cheek against his shoulder to look.

The photo showed Annie and a short dark haired man standing in front of a small peach coloured house. Annie wore a blue sundress and denim jacket, strange after months of growing accustomed to the same leggings and grey pullover. The man was standing behind her with his hands placed on her shoulder and stomach, holding her close. The position implied affection but something in his crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes spoke of possession.

Hal turned the picture over and read the date scrawled in an unfamiliar hand.

_Our first house, May 17/2007_

“This was taken two weeks before Annie’s death.” Hal said aloud more to himself than to Alex. “Tom!” he called louder.

“What?”

“Tom, do you know who this is?”

Tom took the picture and shook his head.

Many of the photos showed the same two people. A man and woman, both faired haired in their mid to late twenties. The most recently dated photo showed the woman tired but smiling, the pink bundle of a newborn baby cradled in her arms.

“You met Annie’s friends didn’t you? Eve’s parents and the vampire.”

Alex raised her eyebrows interestedly but bit back the urge to ask. She didn’t like the tension on the edge of Hal’s voice.

“Yeah, why?”

“Would you tell me about them? They clearly meant a lot to her and Annie was our friend.”

“Nina was always so strong and George was so smart. They would have made great parents.”

“And Mitchell?”

“He was a lot like you actually, just wasn’t able to stop killing. But there’s no doubt Annie loved him.”

Hal ran a finger down the frozen image of the two dead werewolves, no longer faceless names in his mind. He did not mention that Annie’s vampire was not a total stranger to him.

_1920 had been an interesting year. The probation of liquor had only amused many vampires, after all the bottles of red liquids in most of the clubs he frequented rarely contained red wine or spirits. Ivan drained his glass in a toast to his own one hundredth and fiftieth year. The younger vampire didn’t seem troubled as his new wife slipped from the room along with Herrick’s recruit._

_“Less than ten years a vampire but showing definite potential,” Ivan mused. “There is some intelligence below the… enticing packaging.”_

_“The most dangerous kind,” Hal sipped his own drink and grimaced. “This is lifeless, must have been drawn at least three days ago. Care to go find something fresher?”_

_Ivan hesitated._

_“We can wait for Daisy,” Hal offered. “I doubt it’ll last long.”_

Hal reached across Alex to take the last box and frowned at the contents. The photographs were no doubt of significance and therefore these items must also be in order to remain after so much time.

“These must have been important to Annie if she saved them,” Alex offered reaching in.

“Let me see that,” Tom took the necklace from Alex and examined the small sliver symbol: a Star of David.

“This was George’s, and,” he took the box and rummaged through the rest of the mismatched items. “Can I take these?”

 

The mantelpiece was perfect for such a display. Tom had added several items and didn’t think Hal and Alex would mind them being used. From the box he had taken a pair of faded green gloves, the Star of David and a pink floral mug. Arranged beside them Hal’s domino key, the napkin Alex had written her number on, one of his own wooden stakes, the farewell letter from McNair and a little white bib of Eve’s. It wasn’t much of a tribute to so many who had not lived to experience the second chance they had now, but he felt it was right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive time gap in updates and thanks to anyone still with me :) As promised here's my first attempt at Hex, all feedback appreciated :) Enjoy

The film, a hurried war remake of Alex’s choosing, appeared to have reached a vital plot point but Hal had grown bored of the tedious stream of explosions and curse words, broken occasionally by a carefully constructed rally speech. The figures in reproduced khaki had no understanding of what an actual battle was. Make-up and special effects could never do more than mimic the filth and destruction:blood, sweat and lice, festering wounds filling with parasites and gangrene. 

_The little water available had been used to boil the softened strips of leather cut from mud stained work boots but not enough to clean them. It was better not to pay attention to the taste and remain focused on repetitive chewing: anything to maintain life after the food rations had gone. His last days as a human, only just becoming aware of how far his desperation for survival would extend..._

Hal shifted his gaze instead to Alex, curled against his side and their fingers intertwined as they had been for almost an hour.

“This is nice,” Alex said softly.

“I’m glad.”

“You know, this could be counted as our first actual date.”

“We’ve...dated before,” Hal protested, pausing over the modern word. 

“Not something to brag about,” Alex sighed with more fondness than frustration. The humiliation of the museum tour was nothing compared to the horror of their second date; her most vivid memory before losing consciousness was the sight of her blood siphoned out through messily placed plastic tubes, the drips running warm down her collarbone.

She glanced up as a finger grazed her cheek, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I believe I may still be old-fashioned in this matter. Tell me, how does a date generally end in your experience?”

“Depends.” Alex straightened up to bring her face level with his. “Could always start by kissing me.”

“Alex...”

She cut off the stuttered response with a light kiss, sliding into his lap as she did do. As Alex made as if to draw back she felt his hands catch hold of her waist and back of her head, gentle but firm. His lips parted under hers and Alex eagerly leaned into the kiss, accepting the hesitant tongue and allowing him to uneasily take control.

“Alex,” Hal repeated, breaking off the kiss and bringing a nervous hand to his face. 

“Are you okay?”

“Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Um sure,” Alex replied bemusedly. She shuffled sideways on the couch to allow him to stand and leave the room. 

Hal kicked his bedroom door closed and leant against the window. A trickle of rain ran down his reflected face like a tear. Hal closed his eyes to avoid his own gaze, choosing instead the slideshow of terrified faces on constant replay behind his eyelids.  He did not remember many of their names but would never be able to erase the combination of emotions-fear, anger or even arousal- of a dying expression.  The first time he had committed murder was as a child; a whore’s bastard who would not be missed by more a six women but still fought for his life. Nevertheless, that had not been the first time his involvement had ended a life. 

Through the majority of his childhood and adolescence, Hal had been content without the knowledge of which one of the six prostitutes who raised him was his actual mother. He knew only on reflection that the women had laid blows on each other’s navels to prevent the possible bittersweet births of more children they could not afford to feed.

It was not until after he had become a vampire that he learned it was none of them.

“Hal? Please don’t do this to me again; you can’t blame it on bloodlust anymore.” The black humour did not cover the undertone of hurt in her voice.

He didn’t look up as the door creaked closed behind her or as gentle forearms draped around his chest.

“Where’s Tom?”

“At Allison’s, don’t you remember? He was so excited this morning and she’s driving back with him tomorrow.”      

“Alex have you noticed how easily commitments such as employment, purchases and other financial maintenance for the house slot into our lives without effort or consideration?"  _For a month, you wore Tom’s clothing and perhaps the same set of undergarments, not feeling the need to shower or change..._

“I...no...I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

Her face reflected over his shoulder showed no fear or confusion, simply mild frustration most likely unconnected with the basic logic that had failed to occur to her.

“Just musing,” He murmured, turning to face her. “Nothing important.”

Alex stood slightly on her toes to kiss him again, the rough two inches difference in their heights more prominent in her bare feet.

Hal’s hands settled on the curves of her hips, pulling her close but making no attempt to explore her body further.  Alex moved hers up Hal’s body to his shoulder blades, steering them backwards towards the bed; as she felt his calves hit the bed she applied a gentle push.  Without an attempt at grace Alex pulled her singlet off over her head, unbuttoning her shorts hurriedly and letting them slide to the floor. She raised her forefingers and thumbs to the clasp of her bra, the same lace push-up she had worn optimistically on what would be the night she died.  She dropped the bra on top of her other clothes closely followed by her flimsy black underwear.

Propped on his elbows Hal stared up at her, cheeks flushed as if embarrassed by his own arousal.  He had taken the time to remove his shoes and socks but undressed no further.  He kept his eyes fixed on Alex’s face as her fingers tugged his shirt off and kissing down his toned torso. She unbuttoned the fly of his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down in one motion.

Alex gasped in surprise as she made to straddle his lap once more but found herself flat on the bed, Hal on top. She gasped again as he thrust into her for the first time, more aggressively than she had expected. 

Alex’s voice regressed to moans and dragged her fingernails down his back as Hal’s lips traced her breasts, teeth gently nipping her sensitive nipples.  The murmured endearments and gentle touches sharply contrasting with the almost painful thrusts as he came inside her.

“Get up here,” Alex said breathlessly. She reached to frame his face in her hands and pulled his lips to hers for another kiss.

...................

_A gentle hand caressed his face, cold despite the beads of sweat. He knew who the woman cradling his head was without looking into the familiar brown eyes now reflected back at him every day._

_“Don’t move,” the girl whispered as he tried to sit. “Just relax.”_

_Hal closed his eyes. The four wooden walls around them were familiar; the home of the army surgeon who had mercifully recruited him. The girl once more guiding him out of sleep was the same who had silently accompanied him for most of his mortal life; her death bringing him into the world overpowered by a promise made by her sister._

_A sound of movement caused him to open his eyes; this time they were not alone._

_The woman leaning her head against Catherine’s shoulder bore similar features but was several years older; Elizabeth as he choose to remember her rather than the pitiful creature she had been regressed to before death.  Seated at his feet was Mary, more of an older sister than a mother even now. The tired but happy smiles of Jane and Agnes, leaning against the rickety table just as beautiful as Mary’s wide childish smile. On his other side Anne lay with her head atop Maude’s lap as the other woman stroked her cascading tresses. The position was similar to his and Catherine’s but the intimacy very different to that of mother and son._

_“I’m so sorry,” Hal said aloud, not knowing which of his seven mothers he addressed. None had lived to their deserved age._

_“You have nothing to apologize for.” The reassuring words came surprisingly from Anne._

_There had been no single moment severing what the naive may have called his humanity, rather a slow decline with each loss of a loved one beginning long before he became a vampire. Regardless Hal would be foolish to deny that tearing Anne’s throat as a new recruit, his last link to family, had set the pieces in play for how he would spend the next century._

_Hal blinked and found himself alone once more save for another woman._

_“This is wrong,” he said before she could speak. “We should have died together years ago.”_

_Lady Catherine chuckled without mirth. It was an ironic coincidence that two such different but significant women in Hal’s life had shared the same name and raven curls._

_“Being a martyr does not suit you. Whatever mask you’ve taken to holding against yourself is a lie.”_

_Hal ignored her words as he struggled to his feet and embraced her.  He breathed in deeply searching for the familiar earthy sweetness of a werewolf but could not find it._

_“I only desire to be a man who deserved you.”_

_“More lies. You and I were never meant to close the rift between vampires and werewolves as lovers; that would be a childish fantasy not permitted in a world that allows the existence of such monsters. You know that at heart, I endeavored to do good but I am no more a heroine than you a hero. If I were, I would have killed you and allowed my heart to break with the loss, the consolation being thousands of lives saved. What does that imply about a woman if she will allow that sacrifice in order to protect one she loved?”_

_“I would have given so much to spend my life with you,” Hal whispered._

_She shook her head. “Look at yourself; struggling through the layers of a dream in a muzzle you attached with your own hands? This isn’t life. You can’t protect them from the truth anymore than you can change it.”_

.....................

Hal flinched as he opened his eyes. The woman nestled against him was not Catherine, dead over a century ago.

 _Was it so wrong to grant Tom and Alex a life they deserved? Was it even fair to suggest that he was something Alex_ deserved _?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone still with me I just have to say, I'm so sorry but this had to be done

The complex biology of a vampire is not something to be explained by science. The recruitment begins with the consumption of foreign blood, causing each organ to fail. As the physical trauma is too much to endure, the mind is shut down temporarily and the body forced into death like paralysis, which will last up to eight hours. Without the transfer of blood and functioning liver the body should not be able to move or process food and drink, much less display physiological signs of arousal.

The prolonged life, immunity to disease and far superior physical strength and agility, almost perfect recreation of life is a result of much more than the ignorant ‘magic’.  If the human race are the creations of one higher power in His image than vampires were no more than another’s design. The perfectly engineered monsters constructed to control not only the humans but also their inferiors, the werewolves, yet could be destroyed by such a simple weapon as a splintered chair leg.  It was the irony of either a genius or a lunatic. 

.............

The empty side of the bed had grown cold as Alex woke.

“Hal?” she called, sitting up stiffly.  Their crumpled clothing was gone; Hal had probably already taken them to the laundry but Alex noticed her handbag which had been in her closet now sat at the foot of the bed.

“Good morning Alex.”

Startled she looked up to see Hal’s relined form by the window, fully dressed and a book held in his hands. Without looking at her, he swung his legs to the front of the couch and sat up. Something in the lazy grace of his movements and tone was different but not by any means unfamiliar.

“Hey,” she replied with a small smile. “You working today?”

“No, I don’t feel the need to,” he replied with a hint of amusement.

“Come back to bed?”

“Oh Alex, it must be so nice to not see that scam but of course if you or Tom were to question the structure then it would crumble. We haven’t needed money for rent or groceries. No food was purchased in that time. Even conveniently Tom leaving us alone but I wager if I were to, for example, wish to fuck you on every piece of furniture starting with the lounge room counter, then Tom wouldn’t come home for at least another day.”

“Okay one step at a time,” Alex laughed awkwardly, unsure whether he was joking. “You want to tell me what you’re talking about?”

 “Over the last 500 years I’ve alternated between two people; I spend fifty years fighting the urge to murder, only to spend the next fifty slaughtering innocent people before my conscience makes me begin the cycle again.”

“But that’s not who you are anymore! None of us asked for what happened or did anything to deserve it. Can’t you just appreciate the second chance?”

“And far does this second chance extend? Every single supernatural being restored to humanity.  Will the ghosts of long dead tyrants return and attempt to reconquer the world? I’m sure you remember Lady Mary, yes?”

“Pretty hard not to.”

“She was such a strange little thing in life. She slipped out into the garden one night during one of her father’s masquerade balls, confident that tonight Lord Henry Yorke would ask for her hand.” As he spoke, Hal rose from the couch and sat beside Alex on the bed.

“I took her against a piece of lattice with rose thorns piercing her creamy thighs, moaning as no lady should know how to do. Then I tore her throat and left her spread out on the ground with that ball gown up about her waist like a common whore.” Hal’s hand slipped under the sheet to Alex’s bare skin. “Imagine how surprized I was too see her the next day.”  

Alex gasped as the hand on her thigh slipped lower between her legs, one finger slipping inside her.

“Don’t,” she said, shifting away from him and pulling the sheet higher around her body to cover her breasts.

“So you know, I agree with you wholeheartedly; neither you nor Tom did anything to deserve this life,” he said airily. Hal stood and unbuckled his belt, twisting the leather between his hands as he spoke. “You were a bystander who was drawn in by unfortunate timing and misguided revenge. I killed Cutler’s wife and in return he strung up the body of a girl naive or stupid enough to go on a second date with me, a man at that point too frightened to kiss her. There never was anything special about you, not in life or death.”

“Why would you say that? I saved your life three fucking times!” Alex’s eyes flickered from him to the door, heart now racing painfully in her chest.

She heard the swish of the belt before the buckle hit her cheek just below the eye. Stunned, she fumbled backwards, trying to free her limbs from the sheets. Hands took hold of her shoulders roughly and turned her onto her stomach.

Hal’s knees pinned Alex underneath him as he twisted both her hands behind her and fastened her wrists with the belt.  She heard him rummage in her bag and the quiet crinkle of tearing plastic.

 “Up.” Hal half dragged her off the bed and forced her to kneel with a hand on her head.  Crouching at his feet, she was painfully aware of her exposed body, Goosebumps beginning to rise on her naked flesh.

“No, please, no,” she begged as his hand went to his fly, releasing an already prominent erection.

“It’s quite simple, Alex. Would you prefer your mouth or your cunt?”   The same fingers that had touched her so gently the night before pried open her jaw.

With his free hand Hal held something in front of her face: small, white and dangling from his finger on a string. After a moment she recognised it was a tampon, so incredibly out of place she felt hysterical laughter tickling her throat.

“Quite disgusting in theory but useful devices, aren’t they?” Hal said as he shoved it into her mouth and back teeth, wedging it between the top and bottom molars and withdrawing his fingers. “Perfect shape and size.”

Alex couldn’t answer; she found she couldn’t bite down and it was difficult to swallow with her mouth held so wide open. She closed her eyes as she felt him enter, trying to focus on breathing rather than the limited motions of her lips and tongue.  

  
“Tom was that same as you,” Has was saying, as if they were still just having a conversation. “A baby in the wrong place on the wrong night of the month. You both deserved empty, boring human lives but me? I killed the first time when I was only six years old to save my own life, and then twenty years later I killed again because I wanted the blood. If I were to lose an ounce of blood for each of my victims, I would bleed out my entire body over forty-three times.”

The taste was no different from any other skin- the same as fingers when licking off a bit of food- but it was a struggle not to gag every time it hit the back of her throat. 

Hal came with a groan and pulled out, leaving Alex retching. She spat out the soggy tampon and wiped her mouth on her shoulder. 

“Hal wasn’t meant to be like this anymore,” she sobbed dryly, her voice cracking. “All this back and forth, bad and good was over when we became human. He was the best of both-”

“God you’re pathetic! I-”

“Why did You have to come back-?”

The slap across the face cut her off.

“Every vampire has the potential to shall we say, switch drivers as far as personality is concerned, but not many have as much to feel remorse, or feel pride about as Hal Yorke. Neither can destroy the other because we are both part of the same mind. In answer to your question, I’m still here because none of us were actually turned human.

“What-?”

“You remember when Hatch offered Tom, you and I alternative worlds if we stopped the ritual?”

“Yes. Tom never becoming a werewolf, me not dying and you not being recruited.”

“Exactly. Tom living in this house with Allison, a place he would never have visited and a girl he would not have met if he wasn’t a werewolf, you choosing not to go out with me and be murdered by Cutler and myself, choosing either to die of a lance wound or old age. Our realities couldn’t coexist Tom’s and yours included the three of us together and therefore were not real. In fact, He actually told Hatch ‘you should have put us together’ and that is exactly what he did.”

Alex was silent, struggling to understand.

“This isn’t real? None of this? You’re crazy.”  
“Just try and remember what you did this month, week or even yesterday. It even took me time to see it; I suppose He wanted to let you be happy for a while.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hal wasn’t surprised. He knelt beside her and she pulled away, unconsciously baring her neck.  With only a human’s teeth, it would be more painful as well as slow and messy. Hal paused with his lips to her throat and turned instead to her bound wrists. He tore into the main exposed artery with his teeth and then the other wrist, oblivious to her screams. Alex sank to the floor, blood blossoming onto the floor as he held her and applied enough pressure to her arms to encourage the flow. Hal wrinkled his nose irritably at how foul the blood smelled to him; he didn’t feel the familiar bloodlust, his body persistent that he was human.

“No matter,” Hal said aloud, watching Alex’s life leak into the floorboards. “We’ll see soon.”

 

  .............

 

“I must say, quite a finale.”  Hal rose to his feet. The studio was as he remembered, dark and plain. Hatch stood before him surrounded by the possessed crew.  

“But still, here we are.” Hatch tapped his walking against the desk as he leant back.

Tom ran a frantic hand over his head and shoulder, his fingers tracing the familiar scars decorating his skin once more. Alex made no sound or effort to stand but Hal could feel her gaze on his back, the cold scorn temporarily overpowering fear.

“What happened?” Tom said.

“Oh I almost forgot you were there, skulking in my shadow again,” Hal remarked, sneering at the expression of anger and hurt he knew would be on Tom’s face. “As you know, Alex is a ghost and I have survived without food or water for over two months, therefore you are the weak link.”

“What?”

“Hatch waited almost a hundred years for an opportunity to carry out this plan; waiting a few more days for your body to dehydrate and die, leaving an incomplete trinity, would not be much of a challenge.” Hal took a step forward towards Hatch, feeling his lips twist into a smile.

“And what a world you created to keep us occupied. Three reluctant heroes are willing to give their lives to destroy the Devil and are rewarded with restored humanity and the opportunity to live the mundane lives they wished so long and hard for. Without Tom and I as her anchors, Alex would simply drift apart like smoke. That only leaves me, and I don’t particularly care about what you do to humanity as long as there’s always a few left at the end.”

 “How could you?” Alex murmured, her voice trembling.  After a moment of silence Hal realised the words were directed at him, not Hatch.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Even after all this time you couldn’t just let us be happy? You couldn’t let him stay with us, with me...”

Hatch laughed harshly. “Such a selfish human reaction; at the end of the world one girl cares more about her love life. For thousands of years all I had to do was whisper in a man’s ear and he would rape his daughter or smash his brother’s temple with a stone. Deceit and persuasion are my tools ergo I could never create that world for real. But maybe you wouldn’t have minded? Would you have preferred to live in a dream alternative reality as your real family die?”

“Shut up.”

“What really happens if we do the ritual?” asked Tom. His eyes already large and deep set seemed to have sunk deeper into his face with tiredness, giving him the look of a worn out soft toy.  

“We all die.” Hatch shrugged his thin shoulders. “Even if my death could reverse the supernatural effects that’s what would kill you. Your human body, my dear, is half-decomposed and Lord Harry here would instantly suffer from failure of every vital organ. No on leaves alive.”

In five centuries Hal had never been told what awaited vampires after death. Unlike humans and werewolves, they didn’t become ghosts and leave through a door. He had seen in others’ last moments a light leave the body, not in the shape of a face or body, just a small sphere of gold. Perhaps some would label it as a soul but to where would a vampire’s soul be sent.

“This has been very entertaining,” said Hatch. He clicked his fingers at his silent guards. “Kill the boy and the vampire.”

The stake was driven into his collarbone, missing the heart altogether. Hal sank to the ground and looked up at the steady hand holding the stake, the other clutching a vile barely bigger than a bullet to the wound. The vampire’s blood trickled in to mix with werewolf’s and Tom handed it to Alex.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she drained the vile, the blood reappearing on the floor as it passed through her throat.

He felt Tom collapse beside him but Alex remained on her feet, staring in horror as she began to fade before her own eyes.  Hal looked past her at the thing that had been Hatch. The old man’s body lay discarded as the true creature thrashed and screamed above it; shredding and dissolving in mid-air as if torn at by sets of tiny teeth.

Hal doubled over with new pain as his throat constricted, gasping even though he hadn’t needed to breathe in four hundred and seventy-four years.  Catherine Glass would have appreciated the irony that one hundred years after her death he faced the same fate. The thought was enough to make him smile.


End file.
